


suspended animation

by damerons (noblydonedonnanoble)



Category: The Promise (2016 George)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, just two dudes who miss their dead girlfriend, might have to make out about it, this movie owed us a throuple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/damerons
Summary: Mikael didn’t know what he was looking for, when he cleared out of their closet of a room and stepped into the crisp night air. (Or rather, he knew that there was little point—that he would not find what he wanted.) But when he saw Chris Myers standing alone at the bow of the ship, his only thought was,Close enough.
Relationships: Mikael Boghosian/Chris Myers
Kudos: 2





	suspended animation

They were halfway to Egypt when Mikael got Yeva to sleep. He’d only managed it because he promised her that he, too, would try to get some rest, but that seemed impossible. He felt like he wouldn’t get rest for a very, very long time.

He didn’t know what he was looking for, when he cleared out of their closet of a room and stepped into the crisp night air. (Or rather, he knew that there was little point—that he would not find what he wanted.) But when he saw Chris Myers standing alone at the bow of the ship, his only thought was, _Close enough_.

Close enough.

Mikael leaned against the railing a few meters away; just close enough to see the smattering of tears across Chris’s face.

He swallowed. Considered the reporter, considered saying nothing. After all, there wasn’t much that could be said. They’d barely exchanged a word since he shared the news.

“Do you remember the way her nose scrunched up when she was confused?” he asked at last. Voice soft, but the wind caught it and the words carried.

Chris looked up abruptly and stared. For an instant, or for an eternity, Mikael thought that the American was going to tell him to fuck off. But then one of the corners of his mouth quirked up—for an instant, or for an eternity. “And her eyebrows would turn just so.” Chris mimicked the look, and Mikael gave his own half-hearted smile. Genuine, but half-hearted.

“It looks a little different, though, with the…” Mikael trailed off and gestured at his own chin, and Chris chuckled.

It was close enough.

“She didn’t like how much I smoked.”

Mikael was sitting alone against the back of the house, and Chris’s sudden appearance made him inhale sharply on his cigarette, drawing out a cough.

“I never used to, before…” Mikael trailed off, looking off into the night sky. _Before the camp_ , he didn’t need to say, because Chris knew. That was one thing about being a survivor—there was so much he didn’t need to say, because everyone knew. So much that he felt an _urgent_ need to say, lest anyone forget.

But he could trust Chris not to forget.

Chris sat about a meter away and pulled his own box of smokes from his pocket; close enough that Mikael could hold out his lighter for the reporter. “Did you even get the good stuff, all the way out there?”

“Sure. We used to steal them from the guards’ stashes. Or trade for them, sometimes. A few of them liked hearing me sing.” Mikael glanced toward Chris and raised his eyebrows. “They weren’t too good for our folk songs, I guess.”

“That’s a shame,” Chris said softly. His eyes were on the sky, now.

Mikael nearly didn’t engage, but the question nagged at him. “What is?”

Pause—a long one, during which Chris took a long drag and held it in. He sighed with the exhale. “I miss your people’s songs. I’m sorry if they don’t feel like yours, after that.”

“Give it time.”

Chris spent nearly a week negotiating for all of the orphans to receive visas from the American embassy. Mikael and Yeva were one thing—he could guarantee that she would have family looking out for her, caring for her. But all of those children…

The day the plan was confirmed, Mikael and Chris stayed up until nearly daybreak, sitting at the small kitchen table. First, it was to toast Chris’s success, and Mikael’s new home. Somewhere after midnight, they began drinking over what they had lost, instead. They drank to Mikael’s family, and to Emre, and to the countless lives in the camps.

Eventually they stopped toasting, and it felt quite clear who they were drinking to, then.

Mikael scoffed when he glanced at the clock on the wall. “Yeva’s going to be awake soon.”

Chris hummed his agreement. “Sober up.”

“I don’t think I can.” Mikael shook his head loosely. “I’m going to be drunk all day.”

“You should get some sleep, then.”

“Right, because waking up drunk feels so much better,” Mikael laughed. And then he stopped laughing, because he realized abruptly that this was the closest that he and Chris had been since they first met—the other time they stayed up drinking until daybreak. Close enough that it felt dangerous in a way that Mikael couldn’t articulate.

His mind felt muddled after that, and it had nothing to do with the drink.

It wasn’t until Chris was sitting at Mikael’s brand-new American dinner table, enjoying a housewarming dinner with plans to return to New York the next morning, that Mikael realized he would be sorry to see the reporter go.

But when he articulated as much, it was, “Yeva will miss you.”

“I’ll miss her. She has a lot of spirit.”

Mikael hardly knew what he was saying, where he was going, when he continued. “I’m lucky to have her, Chris. Even-- even with her, I’m… so lonely.”

Chris, too, seemed to be uncertain of Mikael’s direction. He squinted, and he hesitated. For an instant, or for an eternity, Mikael thought that the American was going to get up and leave, and he wasn’t quite sure why. He wasn’t quite sure why his own words terrified him so much.

“I’m lonely, too.”

They were not talking about Yeva anymore, and that was when it struck Mikael—it wasn’t Chris who had reoriented the conversation.

Nor was it Chris who leaned in. Tentatively. Questioningly.

Mikael kissed Chris, their mouths warm and wandering, and it was close enough.


End file.
